Sup, I stole this meme from Midnight Mustang. And I cheated. A lot. But all for your enjoyment, of course. Don't be so goddamn ungrateful.

BEHOLD, MY TERRIBLE TASTE IN MUSIC.

Rules:
1. Pick a fandom you like
2. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.
3. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it ends.
4. No lingering afterwards.
5. Do 10 of these and post them.

"Shush girl, shut your lips, do the Helen Keller and talk with your hips."

-- 3Oh!3

--

Leave Your Hat On – Joe Cocker

Moist knew two things about himself. One: he knew that inside, he was a nice guy, but his urges to steal, trick and con got in the way of it and Two: he was blessedly forgettable. He was average height, with average brown hair, average build and an average face. And he liked it that way, because it didn't get in the way of the first thing he knew about himself.

And then along came Vetinari, with his ridiculous spy network and even more ridiculous propositions. And the hats, those were the most ridiculous of all. When it came down to it, Moist blamed the hats more than the gold suit, the flash and pizzazz. It was the hats that made people remember him, recognize him on the street, pick him out of a crowd.

It was a hat that kept Adora from shooting him in the first place though. So they had to count for something, he reflected as he looked down on the curves of her body on the duvet. As a last measure, he reached up to pull the winged cap off his head. Adora smirked. "Just leave the hat on."

Goo Goo Dolls – Black Balloon

Angua watched the drizzle fall on the city from her post behind the shed. Commander Vimes was in Hot Pursuit half a street away, and she was waiting to make the collar when the suspect ran by. Off in the distance, the noise of the chase was barely audible over the sounds of the city.

Not like the woods, where the sounds would be the rain and the leaves and the trees and the life.

Not like spring on the plains, where the grasses swayed with the weather and the animals were almost silent next to the pounding rain.

Not like the Pack, who moved without a sound and killed before the prey knew it.

The chase howled by and Angua lunged. The suspect, caught off guard, fell to the ground, Angua tumbling to the gutter next to him. Not like the forest . . .

And as Commander Vimes swore and cuffed the man groaning on the cobblestones, Carrot reached down and pulled Angua back into the city.

Come Together – Joe Cocker (it's a remake, don't judge me)

Vetinari liked the city at three in the morning more than any other time of day. Which was why, at 3 am, he was sitting on the roof of a warehouse watching. Not anybody or anything, just watching.

People milled around, and he knew something about all of them, even if he didn't recognize them. The worked for the city, they paid for the city, the pulled all directions for the city, and that was the only thing that kept the city from sliding out from under them. He knew where every one of them lived, played, worked and bought. But at 3 am, he didn't care that much. All he cared about was that they were pulling, and they were turning the wheels that ran the city, powered the city, drove the city. They were working towards a common goal, even if they didn't know it.

And as Ankh-Morpork ground toward another sunrise, he laid back on the roof and smiled.

Ievan Polka (Ieva's Polka) – Loituma

Gnomes ran under the feet of the dwarves, who ducked around the legs of the humans, who curved their trajectories around the bulk of the trolls, who gently moved around the stalls, heaped with goods, which squatted in place, held to the edges of the streets by the pull of the sidewalks, which clung to the bottom of the buildings like the rings of a gaseous planet.

Sator Square was not all that unlike any major solar system, to anyone willing to spend the time comparing the two.

Stronger – Kanye West

Sybil had once said that whatever does not kill you, makes you stronger. Vimes would beg to differ, though quietly. Years in the Night Watch, watching the sun go down from Psuedopolis Yard, and watching it come back up from a gutter somewhere, had almost killed him, and certainly hadn't left him stronger, he reflected. It had left him an older man, wiser, more cynical, with a liver that had filtered nearly everything that came out of a bottle. It didn't ever occur to him that strength means so much more than brute power.

Sybil watched the man who was a loving husband, caring father, and bearer of an entire city's burdens, and reflected that to be what Sam Vimes was, one must be nearly the strongest man in the world.

Wonderwall – Oasis

Vetinari knew that had Vimes and Sybil never met, the city would be entirely different. Of course, it went without saying that if any of X, Y or Z had never happened, the city would be entirely different, but this was different.

He knew Vimes's buttons, had known them for years, but had used them with care, because with a man like Vimes, eventually those buttons would lose their efficacy. Push them one too many times, and suddenly the spring broke, and the man whose rage had constantly powered his vengeance would drink himself into a stupor he would never wake up from.

And then Sybil had come along, on the unlikely suggestion of Fred Colon, and kept the machine oiled so that, fueled with enough general anger, it would spin forever.

Save Me – Sister Hazel

Rincewind had never enjoyed running, even when he'd been a child and one of the few joys of life was a good, honest run across the semi-manicured lawns of Hide Park. But now, after years of a marathon career as Wizzard, explorer and tour guide, with a safe, cush job as a tenured professor at the Unseen University, he felt something was missing.

The day it hit him that he missed running, he didn't panic. Instead, he calmly proceeded to the kitchens, had a hashbrown, and thought it over. He could take a jog around the University grounds, or even around the entire city, but that lacked an element of urgency. He laid the hashbrown aside.

It would be the talk of the wizards' first dinner, later that evening, as to why Rincewind walked outside the University, threw a potato at a man in a Dimwell jersey ad proceeded to yell a string of profanities. Didn't the bloody idiot realize they were going to chase him as long as he was willing to run?

Here Comes Horses – Tabitha's Secret

Drumknott wasn't the sort to despair. When one came from a past like Rufus had, there wasn't much in his current situation to despair about. He had a nice flat in one of the better parts of the city – not that he ever stayed there much – a secure – if demanding and somewhat insane – job, and a girlfriend who shared his passion for manila envelopes and ring binders. She'd even dressed as a filing cabinet for his birthday last year.

But he was despairing now, as he watched the cloud of dust and horseflesh round the corner of the Hippo. He'd put money on longshot 5, a lot of money, and not only was 5 at the back of the pack, her jockey was rating her. He clenched his teeth and clung to the bar of the stands with a white-knuckled grip. Lord Vetinari would have something to say about this tomorrow, certainly. He'd know, the bastard always did.

And then she came back with his drink and put her hand on his. As the ice clinked the sides of her glass, she smiled. And the jock threw 5 the reins, and the little filly buried the rest of the field in a spray of dust and shame. "That was exciting, wasn't it?" she asked, and handed him his drink. He could only smile and agree.

Run Around – Blue Traveler

He wasn't sure why he and Grace got along. They had almost nothing in common, although he imagined that was pretty much the case across the board as far as he was concerned. Very few people have a crippling obsession with a city that will never show its gratitude beyond spitting in your eye at the end of the day. But they did like dogs, and the crossword, and making fun of columns in the Times together. And bit by bit, she was learning to love the city, too, although she'd never look at it through the same lens he did.

"But they don't like you," she's pointed out one day, after a fairly rabid column caused him to reflect on how batty the writer must be. "I mean, I like you obviously, but the populace? Please don't make me tell you you're out of touch."

"Oh, I know they don't like me," he said, cutting the column out. He'd display it somewhere, one day, for sure. "But no one really hates me. Except for Downey."

"And me, when you start rambling about the city." She gave him a look. "Oh, don't pretend you never do."

He frowned. Yes, there was no common ground.

At least the sex was fantastic.

AllStar – Smash Mouth

Vimes had a lot of memories, most of them fogged over by a web of nostalgic cobwebs these days. But there were a few that were branded into his brain so thoroughly that he could still remember every single detail of the memory, right down to the way the clouds looked.

The day he'd caught a pet shop owner and the ruler of the city making out like a pair of drunk teenagers in the back room of a shop at two in the morning was one of those. He'd not managed to look Vetinari in the eye since then, and he'd certainly hadn't ventured into that alley behind Pellicool Pets.

But here was that Speaker woman, smirking at him because she knew what had him squirming in his boots in the middle of Sator Square. She patted him on the shoulder, and he fought not to cringe. "Tyrants need love too," she said quietly, and no one else heard.

Later that evening, Sybil would be confused as to why Sam was so (briefly) resistant to kissing her, and he wouldn't tell her.

It wasn't so much that he felt as though he'd walked in on his parents that was unnerving him, he'd decided.

It was his urge to slap Vetinari on the back and fist bump the man that freaked him out the most.

--

The alternative title to the last one could, theoretically, be 'Bros Before Hoes'.

OLOLOLOLOLOLOL I don't write serious things anymore, trufax. Review anyway, and maybe I will continue to churn out frivolous drivel because you know you like it.